The American
by occasionalwords
Summary: It's 1931, Fitzgerald Grant fills the space left by his brother as heir to the Crestly estate and fortune. His mother parades him at parties but Fitz feels nothing, he's empty and tired. That is until the first party of the Summer, where he meets American beauty Olivia Pope and his world is turned utterly upside down. Olitz AU with original supporting characters. Ch2 onward Rated M
1. Chapter 1

It was finally Summer again. After what seemed like forever, the rainy spring slowly began to melt away into thick and blistering nights, bringing with it the Americans and their dollars. His mother was the height of society, she ruled and decided who was worth elevating and who would be left in the dust and she loved the Americans with their jazz, their rolling accents and their bold hem lines. She found them an endless study, to observe and to be fascinated by, they were in themselves collectables, to be shown off and paraded through ballrooms and parties of the highest order as exotic and wild creatures who had no understanding of their constraints. They were the peacocks among the birds at the avery and it was worth their outlandish nature if only for a flash of their feathers and cash.

Elizabeth Grant had come from very old money, having married twice and produced no less than five children, it seemed her job was done. She now took on her role as Queen and gatekeeper of social society, she bathed and branded her children from their cradles to know exactly the world they would be living in and what would be expected of them as children of the Grant dynasty and custodians of Crestly House. Alice was the youngest and with her girlish features and darling eyes she would have suitors from all over the world vying for her hand. She was shy and reclusive at the best of times but she shone brightly when she entered a room, like a diamond held up to the light. She sipped champagne at the parties and tried to surpass the night with polite nods and smiles to the gentlemen who danced with her, she found happiness in the gardens, walking the grounds and reading when the weather remained fine. James was next, although you would hardly know it from how he behaved, he always seemed busy and absent in the best of ways. He was flying planes in Russia or studying elephants in Africa, he travelled widely and never seemed to settle on anything or anyone. He would bring home a girl now and then as his father would grumble in regret while his mother would politely nod as he talked of love and marriage, only to receive a letter a week or so later on how things had subsequently fallen apart. Then Catherine who everyone affectionately called Kick and who danced with every man in the ballroom until her shoes were scuffed and her smile dimming from the late hour. Everyone loved Kick and she loved everyone, but she was always certain she would never be captured or tied down by anything. She would be free like the Americans she was raised around, her eyes often dazzling in the reflections of their earrings and necklaces. She was determined to wear fine dresses and dance until she died.

Their brother Fitzgerald lived differently. He was groomed, moulded and shaped into the next heir. The fit was uncomfortable, like a poorly worn suit of his father's that he would play with as a child and it felt wrong and difficult to walk in and he often found himself stumbling over, unable to get up. It wasn't his title, not really and he felt so often like an imitation of his older brother. He had never wanted this life, it had been shoved at him like a bucket of ice water, dousing his dreams and hopes as it washed over his teenage form. He wasn't ready then and he still felt unready now. The shoes he walked in didn't fit and couldn't lift his feet without slipping out. This was never meant to be his job and it seemed everywhere he turned, life reminded him of that. He lived in two shadows, that of his father's and his older brother. When the Great War came, Will had insisted, this was his time. It was reckless and foolish to think that this was in any way honourable, but he'd once told Fitz that glory didn't come from flirting at parties and smiling at pretty women, it belonged on the battlefield as you earned your place. What was any of that worth? Once his body was found and his parents sent a single telegram, what on earth was it for? It seemed to him that his brother died not for glory, but for the idea that he'd been searching for something better, something more. Fitz only hoped that maybe now, he'd found it. With his death it was his turn to feel the weight of the family on him, pure rich blood flowing through his veins and the responsibility of the past and the future of the Crestly estate and the family name in his hands. Fitz knew how he felt, how the place seemed to rob a man of his purpose and sense of self. He didn't know who he was anymore, he had become a doll for his parents to play with and the man he was had slowly slipped from his mind, forgotten. But their were times, only moments and thoughts unuttered in the darkest moments of the night, when he would curse his brother for robbing him of his dreams. He was selfish, he knew, but he felt he had yet to prove himself and he almost wished for a war in order to give him some sort of purpose, at least Will had found that.

With the return of Summer was the return of his mother's endless quest to get him settled and married, but the women she paraded through the halls of their home seemed to only want a title and their fortune, something he himself found hard to care about. For that reason he had avoided her parties at Crestly as often as he could, frequently making trips to London in order to escape the estate, finding more and more errands to run. However tonight, as he felt the sweltering heat boil and roast him beneath his suit, he had been curious. He had missed the sights and flavours of the Westerners, their jolly attitudes and their bright eyes, they seemed to be freed by the possibility of money, an idea that felt strange and foreign to him. Money, it seemed, was the weakness of the English but the strength of the Americans. His mother had told him there were new arrivals this evening, as there always were come the Summer and new waves of women would strut past Elizabeth, hoping to earn her favour and grace. The Carlson's, the Jefferson's and most importantly, the Pope's. Elijah Pope had only recently become the American ambassador for the United Kingdom and was keen to promote good relationships between the two countries, therefore he was often photographed at English dinner tables chuckling with MP's and Cabinet Ministers. He was hell bent on getting his family settled in society and his second eldest daughter had arrived off the boat only yesterday and was due to be dropped at Crestly with her father and mother by this afternoon. His mother had mentioned they would be staying the night, at which point she'd given Fitz a stern look and told him to act like a gentleman, to which he'd replied, "I always do."

 **XxXxXxXx**

He threaded his cufflinks through the overlapping holes in his crisp white cuffs and straightened his bow tie. He glanced at himself in the mirror, his eyes scrutinising his appearance, noting the lines starting to appear on his face and the creases in his forehead. At 28 he felt ancient, the shadows of youth etched into the crevasses, he was weary with himself and his life. However, he felt a tingling in the air that seemed to light something in him, like the air crisp and fresh before a thunderstorm with the wind whipping and cracking in so many directions that nothing felt impossible. It seemed to lift him as he turned away from the mirror and walked down the long wooden panelled corridor. He stopped outside the first door to his left, his shoes shining against the dark brilliant red o the old carpet, he fingers tapping against her door, it was a code of theirs they'd invented when they were younger and it had stuck with them. He could her the smile in her voice like warm honey as she called for him to enter. He found her perched in front of her dresser, fussing with the parts of her ensemble. She was wrapped in a brilliant emerald green, her hair piled into curls and glinting with a diamond tiara his mother must have lent her for this evening. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Fitz, be a dear and make yourself useful." She held out her necklace to him and he sighed and shook his head, laughing slightly at the bossiness that never seemed to leave her, despite her maturation. He took the delicate dark chain in his fingers and adjusted the clasp around her neck. She smiled, contented as she glanced in the mirror and caught him properly in the light.

"God, you look terrible. Have you slept?" She meant in out of concern as she turned to face him but he backed away and folded his arms, leaning against her bedpost. He shook his head.

"Not much, I'm having trouble." He hadn't even told Kick about his dreams because he didn't want her to worry but it seemed he didn't put up as good of a front as he'd hoped.

"Well tonight you have to stop being such a ghastly bore for at least five minutes and promise me you'll try to have fun." She said, taking a final look at herself before standing and confronting his gaze.

"Kick-"

"No Fitz, I mean it. I've barely seen you since-" It was something they didn't talk about but the silence that filled the moment had the same impact, clouding the conversation. "You're always in London at the clubs but you never dance. You sit and drink like an old man!"

"I feel like an old man." He said, rubbing his neck as Kick reached up to his cheek.

"Then promise me something. You'll dance tonight." He was about to open his mouth but she reached behind and pulled his hair, "And not just with me you ninny! Dance with a girl!"

He looked at her curiously and she rolled her eyes, "I'm your sister, you fool. I'm not a girl, I'm a friend! And I will spend the night dancing with eligible American bachelors so don't you dare try and intervene and be all brotherly or I swear to God I'll stomp on your feet as you clumsily try and heave me across the floor with your terrible waltzing."

He laughed as she retreated to grab a final spritz of perfume.

"I promise, you'll have no trouble from me. Might not say the same of James though, did you hear he arrived only an hour ago?"

She grimaced, "Oh dear, mother will have an absolute fit. At least she won't notice when I slip away with a gentleman!" She wiggled her eyebrows and Fitz stuck out his tongue in mock disgust as they laughed the same hollow throaty laugh together. He offered her his arm and she took it but he hesitated for a moment.

"Promise me you'll be careful Kick." He said seriously, because he did worry, especially with such strange people always flowing like water in and out of the house, terrified they would sweep her up as they went. She rolled her eyes again in a way far too childish for her 26 years but nodded.

"I always am. It's nothing serious, just kisses and-" He raised his hand and she stopped and chuckled slightly as they began to walk out the door and down the hall towards the sounds of the band and the building crowd.

"Did Mama never tell you about the bird and the bees then?" She said mockingly as he elbowed her slightly in the ribs and she found herself giggling again, much to his amusement. They straightened at the entrance as they stood just round the corner of the top of the staircase, only moments before the whole room's eyes would wash over them. He lent over slightly and gave her a warning look with hints of his affection and worry, "Please try to behave." and she sighed and nodded as their dance always went, with him voicing concern and her pretending it irritated her but secretly knowing it meant he loved her and always wanted the best for her. In that regard it made her shine and they both adjusted themselves before they entered. He noticed instantly their neighbours and several women from London he knew and who batted their eyelashes at him as his eyes quickly fled from theirs. Then he began to search the crowd for the guests of honour. He could always tell the Yanks from the British as they always had wealth stitched into their garments and their skin was yellowed slightly from the beating western sun.

His eyes began to wander to the furthest corner of the room where he noticed a shorter girl who seemed to somehow stand above the rest of the crowd in her dignity and manner. Her lips curved into a smile his eyes seemed to drown in and he noticed her eyes were a luscious dark brown, matching perfectly with her skin and reminding him of the tinted colour of tree bark when it rained. He was so hypnotised that he almost stumbled down the rest of the stairs, Kick nudging him slightly and waking him from his trance. She eyed him curiously and followed his gaze, her mouth became a smile of understanding. "That's the Pope girl." She whispered, swiftly adding "good luck!" Before patting his arm and leaving him alone at the bottom of the staircase with his heart firmly in his throat.

He seemed to gravitate towards her, so much so that when she was a few feet away from him he seemed to be shaken away by her laugh and began to slink back into a shadowed corner of the room. His eyes glided with her, watching her every movement and noting every detail about her. The gorgeous pink silk that flowed over her form, catching her hips and her waist in the most perfect of places before scattering at the ends that swayed and gently caressed the skin of her calves as she moved through the room. He was so engrossed that he didn't even see his brother pull up next to him with a scotch in his hand.

"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Fitz turned his head to see James leaning against the wall, the same as he was, mirroring his stance and gaze. The two men were alike in looks with the same dark waves on their head and the same angled jaw but where Fitz had the charming features and was clueless with flirting, James had a more rugged kind of handsomeness and the irresistible charisma and wit that sparkled and had women weak at the knees. In some ways he reminded him of Kick but without that boundary to her cheek and without the compassion that seemed so inherent in her. James flew in and out of their lives regularly and they'd come to expect it often enough, but it hurt his family that he'd never come for Will's funeral and he seemed (if it was even possible) even more distant after that. Fitz eyed him carefully.

"She is. Met her on your travels, did you?" He didn't want to sound protective but something just have tweaked because James laughed.

"Don't worry, old boy, I'm here with someone. I'm no threat to you tonight but I daresay you'd better snap her up soon, she's the life of the party. If you want her, you may actually have to talk to her." He said with all the suaveness of a cad and it stung Fitz that he was right but even then, he wouldn't let himself be ordained.

"She's not a bloody prize to be won. For God's sake James, do you have any part of a soul left in that hard shell of yours?" He hadn't meant to sound so brash and uncaring but James merely raised his eyebrows and took another swig of his drink.

"So I see they've broken you then?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

James started at him and their eyes seemed to be locked in an endless battle, "Just that I knew they'd get to you. Why do you think I left Fitz? I didn't want to see that."

Fitz scoffed and crossed his arms, "You don't know anything about me."

"I've been gone a long time, but I wouldn't say that." Fitz glanced at him with a raised eyebrow as if to decode his meaning, James smiled wickedly as he nodded back to where he'd been watching her, "I know that girl is going to be the death of you, weather you talk to her or not." And with that he placed his glass on a nearby tray and wandered back into the crowd. Fitz turned back to gage another glance at her, only to find her gone. His eyes swept over everyone in the room and he suddenly felt heat rising through his face at the panicking thought of having lost her, before he heard a soft voice over his shoulder.

"Hi." He turned slightly and saw her leaning against the wall next to him, just as James had done a few moments earlier. He felt starstruck and his words were a jumble in his head and mouth so instead he mumbled back, "Hello."

Much to his delight she smiled softly, just as she had done with her friends earlier although this time there was something brilliant about it, just a hint of something more. But she couldn't possibly feel for him. He looked terrible, his own sister had told him. Yet the way her eyes caressed his face, he knew he was't imagining it.

She titled her head towards the doors at the side of the dance hall, "I hear the garden looks so pretty at night, can we go outside?"

She seemed so informal and bold that he could only nod and swallow as she took his arm and suddenly he seemed to be moving towards the balcony. It was dark outside but still with such warmth and thrill within the air that he'd shivered only from her closeness.

They walked along and down the small flight of stone steps onto the garden where she gasped at the roses glinting in the moonlight. He stared at her intently and watched as she turned back to face him, her hand slipping into his as they settled for a moment, together and still in the budding heat.

"You're Fitzgerald Grant." She said confidently, "You're the heir to Crestly and future Duke of Pembrokeshire."

"And you're Olivia Pope, daughter of Elijah Pope and here to marry a wealthy man and drown in his diamonds." He joked and she laughed heartily before nodding as they kept walking in amongst the garden. "Wouldn't you about fit the bill then?" She gazed up at him adoringly and he stopped for a moment as she leaned in towards him. He closed his eyes, feeling her breath hover over his face and then feeling her words hot and warm against his ear.

"I saw you watching me." She reached up her fingers and brushed over his aw as his head gear falling against her shoulder in submission, she had him under her spell and he was hers. She felt his own breath on her neck and she felt that warm tingly feeling like she was alive with and buzzing with electricity. "Why were you staring at me?" She mumbled against him and intoxicated as he was by her he was able to move his lips softly to her neck and her fingers slid into his hair as he began placing kisses on her soft flesh. He could feel her pulse over his affections and it raced and matched his own as he drank the scent of her in and wrapped himself up completely in the moment, in her. She quivered slightly as she softly crooned, "Do you want me, Fitzgerald?"

He groaned because everything in him felt drunk and tipsy and warm, like fire and scotch coarse through his veins and when she softly bit his earlobe he passed himself even further into her as she moaned in response. "Yes." He breathed as his lips skated over her shoulder, her sleeve falling away leaving him to kiss the bare skin he found only to be interrupted slightly with her bra strap. He glanced up to see her neck exposed, lolling to the side in pleasure. He kissed his way back, his nose trailing it's own path in order to remember every scent of her. "Why?" she mumbled against him. She smelled of Jasmine and the thought of her spreading the oil over her neck enhanced his feelings as found himself gazing and drowning in her eyes, finally level with his. She brushed his hair back with her fingers, twisting and playing with it's locks as she grinned like a Cheshire cat. He peck her lips, or least it had meant to be a peck but he found himself falling into her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and their tongues slowly began to taste and sense one another. He sighed as she pulled away, stepping back and adjusting het sleeve back as his eyes dimmed in disappointment. She remained smiling as she saw the mixture of lust and loss that stained his features and she turned her head to the side, considering him.

"You didn't answer my question." She was a marvel to him, he'd known many American girls and English girls alike but none had had her forwardness, her modernity. She had no hint of regret or embarrassment about her since their encounter, she didn't blush or giggle as some girls might. Instead she challenged him and it struck him starkly.

"Isn't it obvious?" He said, still ruled by the adrenaline and the desire that burst through him.

She shook her head, "I never know with you English." and he could tell from the slight loss of light in her eyes that she'd been caught before, tricked and betrayed somehow.

"Well, I'm not like that."

She titled her head again and nodded, "I can see that, you're different somehow."

He let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding and he followed as she turned and began walking again, her fingers brushing the petals and leaves of the garden as she went.

"So you've known many Englishmen?"

"I was engaged few years ago. He broke my heart."

He stopped and she kept walking but looked over her shoulder to find him pondering her.

"It was years ago, I was a girl of 16. He was wealthy, like you."

"What happened?"

"He ran off with his neighbour. Turned out they were childhood sweethearts. He was only after me for my money, for my Dad."

She turned to face him and their distance was apparent.

"Is that why you want me?"

"No."

"Then why?" She looked puzzled, like it hadn't occurred to her that she could be loved for herself alone but it threw him that she didn't see herself for who she was and how she controlled and effected the room, humming like a firefly and radiating over the party.

He couldn't find the words, instead he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before meeting her eyes with a pained look as if wounded by her.

"I don't see… I don't know…" He struggled, he wasn't gifted with words like James and he didn't have boldness like Kick. He was truly like Alice who was no doubt buried in her books upstairs in her nightgown. He swallowed and met her gaze, his thoughts carefully strewn and gathered to present to her. "How could I not?"

He stepped towards her and took her hand, "Olivia, I don't know what on earth I've done but somehow I've met you and you've hit me like lightening. You're intelligent and quick, bold and bright and brilliant and I'm struck." He shook his head as her mind span and wondered over his words, "You clearly have no idea what you've done to me but I'm not like this. I don't go out into the gardens with women I've only just met and kiss them, my heart races when I see you and I'm blinded. **You** blind me, with all kinds of feelings and thoughts that I can't construe. I don't know what you've done to me but I want you, Olivia Pope. I want you." And it shocked him to say it out loud, his words echoing in their ears as she reached back up and connected their lips once again. He drew further and further into her, only parting when she leaned forward to connect their foreheads.

"Alright." She whispered, "I'll find you. Later. After midnight, when the lights are out. I'll come to you then." and then she nipped his lips again before fleeing.

When he'd opened his eyes he was unsure of what had happened, but he caught her smile and wink at him as she slipped back into the party and he touched his lips as if he could still feel the traces of her own their. He had no idea what Olivia Pope was but he knew his brother was right, she would be his downfall.

 _A/N: So I should really be doing my History essay at the moment but the premier was awesome and then I watched a documentary about an estate in England (which is fictionalised here as Crestly) and then this came into my mind. Now you have this and I'm not sure if it's any good so please lend me your thoughts! I will continue this with what will probably be a full chapter of smut and maybe something else at the end, we'll see where my muse takes me. I kind of love the idea of Fitz being English, and again, please give me your opinions about him and the family (personally I love Kick). For now I'll leave you be but I'd love to hear what you think so please please please do a girl a favour and drop me review! Thank you so much for all the support guys, seriously, you're all awesome and I love you! Hugs xx Sam_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Small warning that the later part of this chapter is rated M, if you aren't a fan then maybe skip from where they enter Fitz's room to Olivia asking about Fitz's name. For those of you who like a bit of smut (just a tad for now), enjoy!_

He was flushed when he entered he ballroom again. He'd waited, pacing back and forth before hand, letting the cool night air take away any evidence of their moment. But from the second he'd walked back to the party, his eyes had sought her out instantly. She was far less effected than him, it seemed. She stood chatting and laughing with several girls swarming around her, no doubt quizzing her on American life. He knew she wouldn't properly give him anything more of herself until later, when they could be alone. But then perhaps if he asked, she might dance and he had promised Kick.

These thoughts swirled in his head as did the memory of her warm flesh under his lips and the scent of her perfume as he grabbed a champagne glass swiftly in order to take off the edge. He began gulping the stuff down only to be shot a warning glance by Kick from the dance floor where she was being swayed by a gentlemen with less coordination than himself, and that was saying something. He rolled his eyes in response and she tossed her head away from him, as if giving up and leaving him to his own devices. He downed the rest of the glass and stalked off towards what had become a small circle of all the season's best ladies.

She was nodding slowly, simultaneously showing her patient understanding and all the meanwhile enduring a conversation she was only partly present for, he could tell even from a short distance that she was at least mentally absent from the party. He hoped her mind had wandered back to the garden or dare he hope it had wandered to the later hours of the evening and into his room? He cleared his throat awkwardly and bowed his head as she turned, her smile radiating across the room and pulling him in somehow naturally.

"Miss Pope, may I have this dance?" The ladies seemed to stop their discussions as all eyes present combed over them as if looking for signs of indiscretion. He coughed slightly and added, "It's only polite, you are the guest of honour and I do believe it's in the best interest of both our nations to show you some British hospitality. That is, if you would do me the honour?" He offered his arm and she shook her head, still grinning as she playfully, simply, and perfectly grasped his hand and laced their fingers together before drawing him along by her side as they made their way towards the centre of the marble floor. In their wake they left gossiping and endless stories being spun and fashioned like clothing to be bought and traded for days long after this one gone but neither noticed. He was bewitched by her and she was swept up in the grandeur of everything, the marvellous old portraits hanging from elegant frames around the room and the gold leaf interwoven within the staircase railings. The English often accused their friends across the pond of being indulgent and flamboyant in their spending of Western dollars but she'd never seen anything as lavish as the sights of England's finest houses.

He placed his hand at her waist and she brushed her fingers over his shoulder as their hands, still intertwined, raised and they began to sway softly to the band's gentle crooning. He longed to burry his head and his lips in her hair, the scent of lavender again intoxicating him as she turned her lips to his ear, noting that his head had began to droop toward her shoulder.

"Not now." She whispered in hushed tones, but even then he could sense her own passion within the simple words. He pulled back slightly to see her cheeks were tinted with the slightest fading of red, as if a rose had been brushed over them and left only the smallest of marks. He nodded and straightened slightly, noticing for the first time how her dress felt like water in his hands, soft and flowing against his fingers.

"Everyone's staring at us." She remarked, her eyes still not leaving his face, studying his reaction closely.

"That tends to be the case when I dance." He said, only slightly kidding. It was something he'd gotten used to, the gawking and endless pervasive stares, it was only expected.

"You're doing fine." Something about her tone and the way she seemed to softly stroke her fingers over his shoulder, contented him and he felt himself slip back into the moment with far more ease that he would have with any other girl in the room. "At least, you haven't damaged international relations. Not yet." She put on a mockingly important tone and he laughed like a giddy child as she did much the same.

"I'd say the relationship is growing quiet well." He hinted the idea almost as a question, but had phrased it as a remark only she would understand. He saw her eyes dance like fire as she responded.

"I think you might be right." She leaned in further, sliding her arm up around the back of his neck just as the song began to come to a close and the attention of the room was turned toward the band as the guests clapped and fussed over the music, her lips grazed his ear as she whispered only for him, "I can't wait to get to know England a little better, after all, things often look so different in the dark."

With that she bobbed her head in a curtsey as he stood still, again breathless and blinking, having to retreat to scotch this time in order to pull himself away from the edge of desire, a cliff that he seemed to titter on with every encounter of her, unable to grab her and throw themselves over together. Even as he gulped down the scotch he knew it would take a whole distillery to combat the effect of Olivia Pope.

 **XxXxXxXx**

The evening seemed to move at the pace of a slug trailing along the leaf of a plant in the garden, grindingly slow and pointlessly endless. He watched as it seemed Olivia smiled and laughed with every gentleman in the room, often taking their arms (but never their hands, as she'd done with him) and being swayed and swept across the floor. The sight left a bitter taste in his mouth, like lead, thick and heavy to swallow. He was thankful when his mother declared the evening was officially finished and those who continued on would do so at their own leisure, thus leading most of the party to clump and crowd together in search of their rooms. He glanced at Olivia to find her having taken the arm of one of the local residents, Miss Abigail Whalen. He was shocked his mother had even invited the girl, the family were Scottish and having rented Northwood House for the next six months it was now evident they were desperate to be accepted into society, The Duchess no doubt being seen as their leg up. He saw how they grinned at one another, smiling openly as Abigail nodded when Olivia whispered in her ear. Just as Fitz began to wonder what on earth she'd done to gain her invite, he saw James cock his head to the side after meeting her gaze. She nodded and politely excused herself from Olivia, no doubt ensuring they catch up soon before striding over to him unashamedly and following after him down the corridor. He stopped himself from passing too much judgement as he supposed he was no better, but he knew that unlike his brother, the girl that he'd meet tonight under the cover of dark would be something different, something lasting. He caught Olivia's eye and she placed a finger to her lips before kissing the tip of it in a gesture only he would see, just as she began to break away from the crowd. He couldn't help himself as he followed, although he was unsure at this point and perhaps uncaring as to whether or not this was part of her plan.

She traced her fingers along the dark wooden corridor that seemed lonely and large without people propelling about as they had done in the ballroom. There was only the dimmest of lights but she could still make out the stoney portraits of women and men sitting still and cold against dull and bland backgrounds. She couldn't see their faces without the light but she was certain they would no doubt disapprove at her behaviour with their relation (however distant). No doubt if pictures could talk they would say she was corrupting him but the idea flitted through her head without her adopting it. This was a tribute to the old world of manners and convention, the world before the war. Now it seemed everything was urgent and colourful, bleeding and overflowing with passion and excitement. She felt the thrill sweep through her in a shiver as she suddenly felt his arms wind around her waist, his back and other parts of him pressed against her as she moulded herself to him. He buried kisses in her hair as she gasped and titled her head, their mouths clashing and meeting at once as they battled for control, for the loss of themselves within the other. She turned in his arms as his hands sloped up her back, feeling the bare skin under his nails as he softly trailed them up her spine, sending her shuddering into him. In contrast and response her nails scraped his back, pulling and clawing at him like an animal, she trailed her kisses from his mouth, licking along his jaw and rolling his earlobe between her teeth as he groaned in longing. He pulled her closer against him, his hands catching her bottom as her legs wrapped around his waist. She began moving and grinding her hips against his in utter ecstasy, feeling him all the time against her, stiff and ready and full of everything she'd done to him. She sighed at this feeling, both of them in heaven together but she knew it wasn't right. He felt everything shift as he pulled back and they both smiled like children, laughing slightly as they gave small chaste kisses between them, his hand grabbing hers this time. He'd kissed her ear before whispering all the promises of everything he would give her, everything that was to come, so unlike him but emboldened by the feelings and the sacredness of the dark. Anything could happen when the eyes were absent and one relied only on the senses, on thoughts and feelings and instinct laid bare.

"Yes." She given him the words over and over again as though they were prayers that slipped from her lips like breath. They were her promises in return, of everything she wanted, them, together, now was enough but it wasn't and they knew. Things would perhaps be different in the morning, the world would be harsher and clearer, but for now they belonged to the dark where they would be hidden from worldly things and worries, instead they were emboldened by the currents and the tides of passion that pulled them together and pushed them, still giggling and giddy, towards his room.

He snuck her in and had her up against the wall all too soon, as she grasped his hair and whispered to him that he should never stop, that there was no beginning and ending between the two, only them. He pulled away and waited as she turned and he began weaving his fingers over the buttons of her dress, fumbling through the small loops before she finally slipped the silk from her shoulders and the garment pooled in a heap on the floor, leaving her in a plain white bra and lacy underpants than made his mouth drop. She unbuckled his belt and skimmed her hands down his shirt as she relieved him of his shirt and pulled and prodded at his bowtie before throwing it across the room without a care. They stood before each other in nothing but their underwear and their eyes ran and traced over their bodies like they were writing their own inscriptions on each other. Slowly she reached around and unlatched the hooks of her bra, sliding it off her shoulders and letting it fall at her feet. He looked at her as if to ask permission and she nodded, surpassing his knowledge of her for the first time in appearing shy and timid. He bent, kneeling down fully as he kissed the skin of her stomach, perhaps blessing the hope that this would be the first of many in his ways of mapping her body. He followed the curve of her, trailing his lips down until he reached her barrier of cloth, glancing up at her once more to find her adoringly gazing down at him, stroking his face in final consent as he pulled down the silk draws and began kissing down the narrow path to her centre. She gasped when he kissed her folds, feeling for the first time a relief and a sense of building as he began to lick and suck further, his tough tracing the crevices and paths she offered him as she began to moan and stiffen at the feel of him grazing her clit. He lapped at her and she began to tighten, everything in her spiralling and contracting, her hands gripping his head as she began to whisper again and again, "Yes, yes! Yes, my darling! Yes!"

And then she was crashing downwards, falling over the edge and sighing as she went, whimpering slightly as her legs turned wobbly and unsteady. She was thankful when he scooped her up in his arms and laid her on the bed, taking a moment to connect with her after their experience together. She looked at him lovingly and began twisting locks of his hair between her fingers as she came back to earth. He was proud of the magnitude of him, of them together, how the sheer force of them could send her spinning and then for them to come together like this moments later. It was perfect and intimate and everything he'd ever wanted.

"Does everyone call you Fitzgerald? It's such a long name." She teased, sitting up slightly as he pulled away to take his own underwear off before opening the covers to her. She moved off the bed and unravelled the pins and construct that was her hair, leaving the untamed curls to fall perfectly over her back before she slipped beneath the sheets. "Didn't your parents ever think of your lovers calling out 'Fitzgerald!' in the throws?"

He grimaced as he joined her, their faces mere inches from one another, both fully naked and very aware of the other beneath the covers. "I rather hope my parents haven't thought of me in the throws too often. But for future reference, my friends call me Fitz."

She considered this for a moment, "And what do your lovers call you?" She asked frankly, with a tone of mere curiosity.

He raised his eyebrow, "You really think me such a playboy?"

She shrugged, "In America, a man likes to brake in his brides."

He cringed at her crassness and she laughed, "Have I offended you? I'm sorry. I don't know how things work here, I'm feel so far from home."

He played with a strand of her own hair, wrapping in around his finger, "So you've much experience in this area then?"

She turned away and buried her head in her pillow, muffling her speech, "Oh God, you think I'm a tart!"

"Never." He traced circles on her upper back and shoulders as he felt her visibly relax at the feel of his touch, "It was a distasteful question, I'm sorry I asked."

She looked up slowly and resumed her original position, facing him, only this time a barrier of hair fell over her face like a mop, obscuring her eyes.

"Livvie," He said softly, pulling her hair gently over her shoulder until he could see her clearly, "I could never think such a thing."

"Even if I'd bedded all the men in Manhattan?"

"Even then." He said solemnly and she could tell that every word was the truth.

"Hold me?" She smiled shyly and he nodded, as they slid closer to one another, his arms once again encircling her waist as he placed sleepy kisses over her eyelids. They drooped closed and she sighed, contented. It seemed everything was waiting for them, and the dawn would bring all sorts of new challenges, but with her softly snoring against him, it felt as if there nothing was unconquerable.

 **XxXxXxXx**

 _A/N: I'm going to leave it there just for now and I know this is much shorter than the last chapter but I just felt like it was a good place to end on. I just wanted to say how utterly blown away I am at the amazing response to this story. It's honestly been so incredibly inspiring to read all your beautiful comments and it's had me up for like the last 3 hours straight just writing non-stop because I'm so utterly in love with these two and their journey. I really also wanted you guys to see this asap as a thank you for all the incredible and amazing support you've all given me as your words inspire and encourage me to no end. Again, I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter, also the corridor make-out scene was somewhat inspired by a scene from The Hour (it's a BBC series from a few years ago). Let me know what you think, where things are going form here… also what are your thoughts on Liv and Fitz's sexual history? We'll get more into that (as well as some more smut as rightly promised) in the next chapter! Until then, seriously thanks again so so much and I love you all heaps and heaps, if you could drop me comment I'd really love to hear your thoughts! xx Sam_


	3. Chapter 3

They hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after the softness of her touch caressing his face and his fingers tracing patterns on her back they had lulled themselves into oblivion. When he woke he was surprised to find her there, still and peaceful in his arms as she murmured dreamed musings in her sleep. He could see from the small gap in the curtains that is was still dark out, meaning they had time, but somehow that didn't seem it matter. Weather it was noon or midnight, he didn't think there was anything that could remove him from this moment with her asleep in his arms. He placed small and soft kisses along her brow and she gently lolled her head to one side, still heavy on his chest, her curls falling in disarray over her face as her eyelids began slowly blinking open. She saw how he gazed down at her with such adoration, as if the whole world swam in her eyes.

"You're staring at me." She was trying to decipher the connection they had but she was beginning to realise how organic it was, unquantifiable and untamed. It scared in her small ways, the feelings she'd thought lost and old that had begun to resurface were all consuming. Yet at the same time she felt completely at home with him, with the idea of them, as if this was her refuge from the storm that was her life, the world outside their own. The rightness of everything overpowered any thoughts of fear or doubt.

"I can't believe you're really here." Because everything seemed so perfect. For the first time in his life he had far more than purpose, he had existence. Olivia Pope was not salvation but rather the promise of a life, their life, together.

"Should I leave?" She joked and he leaned forwards, tickling her sides as she squealed in delight, rolling them away so he hovered above her and their joke subsided as they felt the closeness of each other, their skin brushing and sticking against their bodies. They gazed together for a moment before she pulled him down towards her, kissing him boldly as she groaned with the feeling of him against her hip, smiling into their passions. He pulled back to mirror the look she gave him because this seemed far less like two people making love for the first time and seemed to resemble far more the heat and familiarity of old lovers who had known every point to puncture and press before they came together in perfection and bliss. It daunted them slightly but it wouldn't slow them as he trailed kisses down her chest, his mouth licking and sucking her nipple as she gripped the sheets in order to maintain some semblance of quietness, having only the vague remembrance in the back of her mind of where they were.

"Ah! Fitz, please!" She inhaled sharply as hit bit down on her breast, marking her so that later he would be able to trace the dents where his love had touched her, knowing that this moment needed far more than memories and hopeful that she herself would graze it with her fingers later and remember them. His hand seemed to come unbridled as his fingers began teasing and tempting her entrance, stroking her folds to find them wet and ready for everything they'd wanted. She noted that unlike before, he seemed certain of this. He was sure of her wants and he made no effort to ask or check, he let his instincts guide him and she loved him all the more for it. He kissed her nose and cheeks as she took his hand in hers, alining them over the hard and steady feel of him as they lead him towards her, waiting and welcome. Their touch helped him forwards and he leaned up and over her as she sighed at the feel of him, wonderful and encompassing as her eyes drooped closed and her arms wrapped around his back in pure bliss.

She began bucking her hips but was frustrated to find he was still and unmoving against her. "Livvie, open your eyes." He whispered through gritted teeth and she could see his struggle, to want to please her yet equally as knowing there was a bomb within him about to explode. She gave him a moment, gazing at him adoringly as she stroked his face and their eyes connected.

"Slowly," She said, "Together."

He nodded and inhaled sharply as he loomed over her, filling her in places she didn't know a man could reach and letting a long hollow moan scratch against her throat in pleasure. He raged against his instincts, moving away from her before plunging back as they groaned together, she lifted her hips to meet him and he thanked God for every breath she gave because it seemed to flow into him and bind them together in a way they couldn't with talking and manners and etiquette. She seemed so organic underneath him as they began a steady rhythm, breathing in sync as she raised her hips with him while he grasped her bottom, further pushing them deeper into some form of abyss.

They seemed to increase their pace, as they both felt their hearts speed up, beating and straining against their chests, desperate to jump from their bodies and mould together in a clump of rawness and perfect nature. She could feel herself, like before, standing on the edge of a wave, as they clung together, although this time he was there along beside her, his hand intertwined with hers as their bodies began to tighten.

"Ah, Livvie, I think I'm about to-"

"Together" She whispered again, nipping his earlobe as he sized and scooped her tiny framed towards him, bringing her over and above him as he sat back on his legs while she was pushed against him one final time as they began spasming together, her body shuddering against him as he buried his face in her curls, sighing her name over and over. She ran a hand through his hair, now rugged and tousled as she inhaled deeply against him.

When he pulled away slightly, he lifted a hand up to stroke her cheek as she sighed and lent forward, softly kissing him as his arms slid around her, tracing new paths on her skin that made her quiver with laugher.

He smiled widely at her, both proud and in awe of this incredible woman who seemed so childlike in some moments and so old with her wisdom in others. She huffed slightly as she noticed him again.

"You're staring again."

He chuckled and began laying her down, still connected and above her as he did so and soon he began softly flitting kisses over the smooth skin of her face.

"Should I stop?" He mumbled between kisses and she stretched her head back, rolling it back so he could reach her neck.

"Never." She said in a voice that seemed not entirely her own, but one of dreams and romance, "This is nice.." She sighed and he pulled back fully this time, disconnecting them and making her forehead crease at the loss of him.

He rolled to his side next to her and leaned on his elbow, just as they were before, except this time she snuggled closer to him, puling him towards her as he spoke softly through the kiss.

"Let.. me.. recover.. before.." And the last kiss was long and heavy with her happiness and the drunk feeling of lust and something else that seemed inherent from the effect he had on her. She pulled away and fell to the pillow, but her fingers remained brushing the hair from his eyes.

"That was…" He felt lost for words, but she was there and surly she didn't need to know what he felt. The feeling was bred between them as a symptom of their effect.

"Am I your first?" She asked frankly and again he felt ambushed by her, but it was one of the things he'd loved about her and it was altogether the general effect of Olivia Pope.

"And if you were?"

She titled her head from side to side as if letting the question simmer in her head.

"Everyone is somebody's, I guess it wouldn't matter. Not to me anyway."

"Well, it just so happens you're not." He said it with a cavalier finesse but he saw the effect he's had on her.

Her face seemed to cloud for a moment and he felt the worse for it, "Livvie, I'm so sorry-"

She waved him away, "It's alright Fitz, I did ask. I guess I just wasn't as prepared for it."

He kissed her again and she fell into him, healing and happy again he he pulled away to whisper in her ear, "But this is the first time it's mattered."

She turned away to look at him and saw how earnestly he was, so entrenched in his words.

"I have no right to judge you, Fitz." And he shook his head.

"That's not why you asked, and I know that. You're curious by nature, it's one of the reasons I…" He trailed off and she smirked saucily.

"Yes?"

"It's one of the reasons I'm here, with you, like this." His hand stroked gently and lazily over her breast, caressing her nipple in a soft beat held by her fingers.

"Aren't you curious about me, Fitz?" She raised an eyebrow, seemingly undistracted by his ministrations.

"It seems to me that you are a mystery Miss Pope. As far as what you're willing to reveal, I'll take what I can get and ask for no more than is deemed proper."

"And is anything we've just done 'proper'?" She leaned forward and he seemed to fall back against the pillow as he shook his head slowly, enchanted.

She reached beneath the sheets and held him in her hand, he was warm to her touch and the beginning to stiffen in her grasp.

"Is this?" She said as she straddled him and took him beneath her, sinking down onto him and sighing as she did so, watching as his mouth fell open and he groaned at her.

She bucked her hips once, swiftly and intoxicating to him.

"Should I stop?" She threw his words back at him and hesitated as she said this, his hands attempting to slip around her but she countered him and pinned his arms against the headboard with determination as her mouth hovered over his own.

"Should… I… Stop…" She whispered and he shook his head again, "Never."

From there the night was filled with moans and hushed promises, curses and endearments as their bodies moved together, colliding with the perfection of this moment.

 **XxXxXxXx**

It was early morning when she finally slipped from his room, kissing and fumbling with the buttons on her dress as she went, the silk of her gown again slipping from his fingers as easily as she did, like smoke fading into the night as she whisked herself away to the confines of her bedroom.

The room she left some how seemed colder and emptier without her, as if it was somehow altered. He dressed swiftly, noting the marks she'd left as he buttoned his shirt and thinking of the pressure of her lips on his when he combed his hair into some form of tameness. He wore a simple blazer and tie over his pressed white shirt, taking more care in his appearance than any morning he could remember because he knew, or he hoped, she would notice.

He strode downstairs to find Kick sitting to the right of their father, whilst his mother sat on the left. The 6th Duke of Pembrokeshire sat with a paper covering most of his large frame, his eyes barely visible under his glasses but his son could still note how his they darted from side to side, scanning the Times with only slight interest but pretending that he wasn't focused on the guests who had slowly began to descend from their rooms and filter towards the table. He grumbled slightly, no doubt having reached the obituaries. It seemed to him that these days we was constantly surrounded by death, he had fought battles and Germans but now it seemed that his comrades fell in the war of age and he felt their ranks calling him. Each time they held parties the music seemed to drown out the fear and certainty of death, but the morning made everything louder and the thoughts echoed in his head like a drumming.

Fitz sat down next next to Kick, surprised as she seemed to be entirely ignoring him. He waited for the servants to lay his napkin on his lap and the plate filled with fruit, eggs and sausage. He began slicing the meat up as Kick, still staring straight ahead at her mother, addressed him.

"Did you have fun last night, brother?" She sounded far too smug to be innocent of knowledge and he stifled a playful glare.

"Ever so much, thank you Catherine." He felt a swift prod at his leg and he knew she'd nudged him with her foot under the table, now grinning like a meddling cat. "And what of your own experience, sister?" He said smoothly, turning in his seat as if to confront her to find her eyes slightly wild and her grin turned strained. "Two can play at that game," He whispered and she coughed under her napkin as she resumed her status of schooled features and smiled politely, "It was splendid Fitzgerald, thank you."

"That's marvellous dear," Their mother chimed in as she smiled approvingly before creasing her brows, as her children returned to their breakfast "Have either of you seen Alice? She did promise she would make an appearance."

"Here I am, mama, as promised." Alice floated through the door and took her seat next to her brother, not making eye contact with anyone, merely staring at her plate and politely thanking the servants who readied her meal.

"Good morning darling, did you sleep well?"

Alice shook her head, "Not at all, I heard noises all through the night. Like cats growling or groaning, it was all very odd."

Fitz looked panicked only to see his mother exchange a disapproving look with their father, their eyes then raising to look at their youngest son who had only just sat down and was now shoving pieces of strawberries into his mouth. James hesitated for a moment, slowly swallowing the fruit as their silent accusation dawned on him. He looked momentarily confused then quickly glanced at Fitz, only to see the silent plea in his eyes. He inhaled for a moment, the room holding their breath as he finally nodded.

"Yes Alice, I'm afraid one snuck into my bag, devilish things, wild cats." The table seemed to roll their eyes as if to say, ' _how typical!_ ' and begin conversing with each other again, leaving James to smirk at his brother with a strong sense of pride and admiration. Fitz mouthed a thank you and then turned towards Kick to find her looking at him expectantly.

"For once, I'm assuming that James isn't to blame?" She whispered.

"I'm not at liberty to comment."

"Fitz!" Her tone heightened but she kept her voice a whisper as he rolled his eyes.

"Leave it alone Kick." He said, in a tone bordering on warning but friendly nonetheless.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Olivia Pope entered to room, her head high and seeming to radiate a soft glow in her white silk blouse that puffed and flared out at the bottom of the sleeves, cuffing around her wrists. Her matching white skirt hugged her waist before falling elegantly down her legs and hitting just below he knee. Her hair was framed in a tight mass of curls pinned up just below her ear. She was an angel and it took Fitz a moment to remember all the things they'd done in the dark because she seemed like a different woman from the one calling his name while wrapped in his arms. She waltzed over to a seat across from him and next to his mother as her spine straightened and her smile spread over the room.

"Good morning Duchess." Her accent curling around the words like fingers around a champagne glass, elegant and refined but still so very much her.

"Good morning to you dear, I'm sure my Fitzgerald showed you a wonderful time last night."

Despite the plain and simple look on his mother's face, Fitz almost choked on the sausage he'd just swallowed, coughing and spluttering into his napkin as Kick patted him firmly on the back.

"Goodness, dear, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, worried, but he simply nodded in his attempt at regaining composure while Olivia answered her for him.

"He is a wonderful dancer, that's for sure." Olivia smiled politely, layering her meaning at Fitz with a hooded look of desire betraying her eyes.

Fitz merely nodded, in daylight and with his family he had no choice but to revert back to his upbringing. In the bedroom, in the dark, he was her lover and her play thing to do with what she wished, he could match her and meet her in her desires and wit but this was the place to be proper, he had learned that at least.

Elizabeth smiled approvingly and glanced at her husband who seemed to be absorbed in his meal and was unaware of the room's activities.

"How marvellous!" She exclaimed, turning back to her children as she gazed around the room to find that all the guests had finally arrived at the table, barring a few whose heads were far too heavy from their drinking the night before and raising her voice she addressed the room, "If you will all change after breakfast, we'll have the hunt begin at 2pm sharp. Ambassador Pope will be joining us, along with Mrs. Pope, and we'll dine at six o'clock."

The room began to hum again with conversation as Fitz made eye contact with Olivia to find her grinning and looking as if she was somehow hungry, he guessed she matched his own hunger for her. Just as he picked up his fork he felt a foot begin caressing up and down his leg as he looked at her pleadingly. She raised an eyebrow as she sipped the orange juice freshly poured for her, moving further as her foot found its way up into his lap, only to have his hand begin shaking thus dropping his fork and causing the the room to stop and stare at him as she retreated quickly, feigning innocence perfectly.

"Fitzgerald, are you sure you're well? You're acting very strange." His mother looked at him, studying him curiously. Before she could properly grill him he was standing.

"You're absolutely right mother, I am feeling rather ill. I think I'll retire to my room."

His mother nodded, "Very well then dear, but do try and be present for the hunt."

He had to restrain himself from running from the room as he fled quickly to the bathroom adjoining his room and found himself swiftly turning the taps of the bath. He flung his suit jacket aside and began his pulling at the buttons of his shirt when he heard the door knob twist.

"I can help with that." Her voice was filled with lust and desire as she sauntered in front of him and began grasping the buckle of his belt. He stood still and let her work as his pants dropped to the floor and she began to slowly relieve him of his shirt. When she'd finished she stood back and admired him.

"Aren't you ready for your bath, Mr. Grant?" She said as she paced away from him and he watched her hips sway in a way that seemed to purposeful. He didn't need to be asked twice as he turned off the taps, eyes still firmly fixed on her body as he slid into the water and lay down, his arms coming to rest on the edges of the bath in order to refrain from the temptation to touch himself.

He stared at her, memories of last night mixing with the moment as his eyes followed every movement of her fingers as she slipped from her clothing and softly, excruciatingly slowly she stepped towards the bath.

She gazed down at him and felt as though she were a goddess, taking human form only to be known and worshipped by a man who now held her heart. She hadn't excepted this and she certainly hadn't planned it, but each time she touched him it was as though parts of her fragmented and caught in the net of him, it was as though he was a part of her now. Instead of shying away, she fell into it and wrapped herself in this feeling. She had no idea how long it would last but she vowed to never let it go.

She sunk into the water slowly, then turning, she slid her back against his chest and laying on top of him as his arms settled over her. She felt safer here than anywhere in the world, his arms like great shields from everything that could harm them. The water lapped at her hair and she moved against him, finding him ready for her all over again.

"I thought you'd be tired." She chuckled and he began loosely trailing his fingers over her breast.

"I shall never tire of you, so long as I live." He said solemnly as she sighed, contented and happy. They both knew that this moment was perfection, and they would look back on this in years to come as the very peak of their relationship, both so naive and unaware of the world that lay waiting beyond the bathroom walls.

 **XxXxXxXx**

 _WOW! I am so thrilled at how much of an incredible wonderful response I've gotten from this fandom I love and admire so much! Thank you so much guys! So as you can tell… we have some storm clouds brewing for Olitz, if only they could simply be happy! I should actually mention that this story was inspired by that of Kathleen Kennedy (sister to JFK) and William Cavendish, Marquess of Harrington. The timing is different and the ending will not be as sad and costly as theirs but you'll see little dashes of similarity from their story, such as Olivia's father being the US Ambassador to the UK (as Joe Kennedy was) as well as that Kathleen was affectionately nicknamed 'Kick' and I'm borrowing reported aspects of her personality that are very similar to Catherine's socialite ways. But those are only small traces of reality here, like all writers I'm making up far more things than I am taking. Anyway! I wrote this chapter over a period of about a week so I hope it's not too jagged. Let me know what you think! What obstacles do you think loom in the distance for our favourite couple? What are James and Kick going to do with the knowledge of their brother's love affair? What did Kick get up to last night? What will Papa Pope have to say? Is it AT ALL a good idea to put a gun in his hand when Fitz is around his only child? (I think you already know the answer to that one, lol). I love reading your thoughts, particularly loved seeing everyone's opinions of Kick and James, we've only had a small glimpse of Alice but I promise we'll have more of her later on (she's rather shy though). I will try to update soon! Uni is ending next week which will leave me with much more time to update and I can't say for sure but I've started working on a new chapter of 'This Connection', so that will probably (maybe) be the next time you hear from me. Until then, much love and heaps of hugs! x Sam_

 _PS. Let's all hold hands think happy thoughts for our Olitz to make it through another TGIT, it's honestly so stressful not knowing their future, especially amid all this media shit storm *cries*_


	4. Chapter 4

e had dried herself hastily, in between his lips kissing and marking her body and his tongue grazing over the goosebumps that trailed her skin. She sighed as she extracted herself, she didn't want to leave, she didn't want this moment to end, the water had sloshed around their forms as she rocked against him and he held her as she trembled and shook with him for what seemed like the millionth time. She would hold these memories close, guard them with her life and store them in a place in her mind that she would return to from time to time when everything ended. It was torture, this mixtures of pleasure and pain as he loved her and cradled her heart and her soul with such affection, but she knew her duty and the rules and he didn't fit.

When she tore herself from the room it was as if part of her stayed there with him, watching and caressing him with each moment as he dressed and prepared for the hunt, while she felt a similar presence as she did the same. She'd arrived to find him deliciously English and proper in a tweed suit that covered him head to toe and large shiny black boots that finished just before his knees. To complete the ensemble he wore a cap that betrayed small strands of his brown waves as they peaked from the sides. All the other men were dressed similarly but he stood out somehow, as he always did, she wasn't sure if it was his height or his handsomeness or the fact that she'd felt every part of him from head to toe, but something about him always captured her attention.

"Ambassador Pope, so lovely you could join us!" She heard the Duchess say as Olivia turned to find her father had walked through the large glass doors onto the balcony where the small party were gathered in preparation. His arms outstretched, he hugged the Englishwoman in a gesture she seemed to find a little overbearing (far too American for her comprehension), but nonetheless she pulled back and smiled at him.

"Call me Eli." He said smoothly and the Duchess clasped her hand to her chest and returned, "Then you must call me Elizabeth!" and they laughed and agreed to the informality as Olivia rolled her eyes. She had grown up with this man, constant flirtation and suaveness that was flawlessly smooth and very politic. It bored and yet amazed her, to see how women would flail and fall to their knees alongside Prime Ministers and Presidents, but she'd grown tired of watching him do his tricks and instead of being intrigued by the magic, she found it tiresome and childish.

"Ah!" He spotted her and walked towards her with purpose, "My darling Olivia!"

"Daddy." She said politely, kissing his cheek while he kissed hers as she professed in a whisper, "I've been a good girl, I promise." He raised an eyebrow as they both pulled back and he shot her a look that showed he didn't quite believe her but he stayed silent nonetheless. He grabbed his gun and she shivered at the sight, thinking how scarily natural it seemed in his palm, almost as if the rifle were a part of him, another limb. Meanwhile a glance at Fitz saw him looking uncomfortable with the machine, gripping it tightly and handling it with little grace. He was a lover at heart, she knew that from his touch but seeing him with the weapon proved it to her wholeheartedly.

They set off and despite his seeming discomforted demeanour, Fitz managed to shoot well, killing six pheasants by the time the shoot was halfway done. Meanwhile Eli had slaughter no less that eleven birds and proudly wrapped and tightened the string around their necks as they dangled over his shoulder on show, parading his kills to anyone that dared look at him. Olivia grimaced at the thought of her father and Fitz in the same arena but thankfully, she had taken pains to be careful enough so it wouldn't come to pass.

They surrounded the largest patch of woodland, where the trees were in a clump and the undergrowth was thick enough for the birds to live in. The loaders were sent into the small forest to swat at the ground so as to drive the animals out, causing them to burst through the trees towards the sky where their fate and blind luck awaited. She watched as she stood next to her father, chancing small glances at Fitz as her eyes skimmed over his perfectly framed stance, he aimed his gun towards the sky just before feeling the jolt of it's firing.

"You might try not being so obvious." Eli's voice was dripping with distain as the sound of his shot rang out through the air and she wrapped her coat further around her as if to shield herself from him. She heard a thud and turned to see a younger pheasant, a female with soft browns dotting the feathers beneath it's wings that lay on the ground behind her, having fallen as another victim of her father's.

"I don't know what you mean, Daddy." She turned away and pretended to be gazing at something far off into the trees focusing her attention, attempting to block him out but she felt his presence grasp and engulf her. His voice was like an earthquake that shook the ground she walked on as she trembled and tried to map her steps on the disappearing foundations beneath her.

He turned to face her, slinging his gun over his shoulder but one hand still firm around the faded wooden stock.

"I think you know exactly what I mean. I think that that **boy** has caught your attention and, in the forty eight hours you've been allowed off your leash, you've abused the power you've been given and you've batted your eyelashes so much he's gone blind with love. I think that you have made false promises to me and your mother about who you are and what kind of good Catholic girl you are supposed to be. I think that you have no intention of keeping your word and I think that you won't be allowed back home if this kind of behaviour continues. Am I clear?" He fumed but his voice remained measured as his eyes blazed. She knew he meant every word, that he'd have no hesitation in cutting her off and never letting her home again.

"I'm not a child." She said evenly, although her voice shook and he began laughing cruelly as the horn sounded and the party turned, and began their retreat back to the house. She tried to follow but Eli grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, his face dark and hard against his daughter's softness.

"Olivia, I'm not playing games. You will behave yourself accordingly around these common Protestants and you will do exactly as I tell you from now on. Otherwise, I don't care what deals we've struck in the past, you'll be shipped back to America before you blink. My word is my word, Olivia and you **will**. **Not**. **Push**. **Me**."

He let her go roughly and she felt jostled and phased. She watched his form disappear into the distance and she realised then that she was all alone, with only his form to follow back to the house. The thought left her cold as did the bitterness of the English air and she shuddered as she began walking, just reaching the outskirts of the undergrowth when she saw the dim lights of the estate in the distance, guiding her back.

 **XxXxXxXx**

The evening began at 5pm as the few people still left trailed around the sitting room with cocktails and gin in hand and wealth coating their features. Olivia picked up a gin and tonic from a nearby waiter and began swirling the liquid in her glass. She didn't want to drink the damn thing, gin left a bitter taste in her mouth and she didn't much care for alcohol but she needed something to dull her senses. Her eyes flicked over the room and she found no sight of her father which was somewhat of a relief and she exhaled, letting the tension fall from her shoulders. She spotted Catherine across the room and smiled at her, catching her eye and flicking her head to the side in a suggestive manner so as to bacon her over.

The woman creased her forehead but she excused herself from the group of ladies she entertained and met Olivia Pope by the window box.

"I'm Olivia Pope." She stated, frankly but with touches of warmth as she offered her hand and Fitz's sister took it, shaking it with swift.

"Catherine Grant. I've heard excellent things, Ms. Pope." She said, with a hint of cheek and Olivia took a quick swig of her drink before nodding in response.

"From your brother?" But she was surprised to find Katherine tilting her head from side to side.

"Not really, we haven't spoken much which is odd, but it seems since he's met you he's had little time for anything else. He's practically got tunnel vision." Both women laughed slightly and Olivia looked her over as if making some kind of assessment.

"I think we'll be good friends." She murmured and the newly acquired friend in question nodded her head as they clinked their glasses in a toast. The moment soured slightly as she saw Eli enter the room and mark her with his predatory gaze, letting her know that she was indeed on notice. She had to stifle rolling her eyes as she heard Catherine murmur something.

"I'm sorry, I missed that." She admitted, giving her new friend her full attention.

"I was asking if you were alright, you seemed… I don't know, you just seemed, far away."

"I'm tired, that's all. Look, Catherine, now that we're friends, can you do me a favour?" She spoke quickly, not wanting to be cause for anything as she hurried her words, this was her only chance. "I need you to get a message to your brother. Tell him that he has to stay away. For my safety and his. Tell him I can't and I'm sorry."

The young woman could see how this pained her new American friend, the words ripped holes in her and she was wounded by the strength of their meaning.

"Of course." Olivia found her hand for a moment with her own and held it just for a second in gratitude. She smiled as she saw Fit'z eyes, the family eyes she now realised, gazing back at her as she suppressed tears.

"Thank you Catherine." She whispered and just as she pulled away, she hesitated.

"Kick." Olivia looked at her, the sadness of her face fading into curiosity, "It's what my friends call me, my family."

Olivia nodded and her smile widened, "Thank you, Kick."

With that she moved through the crowd and began buzzing through the party, holding her own as well as the attention of much of the room. Kick wondered what kind of woman she'd just befriended, she seemed to fit in so effortlessly, but stand out all the same. She was one in a million and yet she blended in. The thought amazed her and she shook her head again as she continued her own hostess duties.

 **XxXxXxXx**

She had managed to avoid him all evening, noting each time she spared him a quick glance, her eyes darting to him as quickly as they darted away. She knew he'd received her message as she saw Kick find him soon after he'd joined the group and she'd seen how he'd kept a polite distance all through the night.

She sighed and rubbed her neck, the parties never seemed to end here and she was thankful at the idea of being back in London within the coming days, if only so she wasn't tempted. Her maid had come earlier and left after she'd helped with her dress but Olivia never allowed anyone to touch her jewels and always insisted that she remove and place them herself. It made for queer looks that often ghosted over the servant's faces but she waved them away and was left to her own peace. It was tradition, they were her sister's pearls and she'd sworn she'd keep them safe until her return. Olivia smiled gently at the small portrait that sat on her dresser, she always kept it close by and sometimes she'd talk as if her sister were still there, with her, laughing as they did when she was a child.

She was almost six when it happened, but it didn't feel like a reality and she couldn't understand. Her family had received a telegram from her Anna Pope only a few days before her death saying that she'd be sailing on the Titanic from South Hampton to New York City and should arrive later that week. They'd gotten the news quickly that those in First Class faired well and more and more rumours began trickling down across the Atlantic, giving them hope. With the news of the Carpathia arriving in New York City, her father had rushed down to the docks to search for their beloved Annie but when he had returned home alone with a stone cold expression, she and her mother had sobbed. She was one of only four unlucky women in her class that didn't escape the jaws of the sea.

She missed Annie, whenever she thought of her a sharp ache surged in her heart. She felt robbed of time with her older sister, having only been a little girl before getting to know her properly. But Annie had always been kind to her, she had taught her how to plait her hair and play chess. She stood up to her father when Olivia was only small and it inspired the courage within her to do the same. When she'd left for England to join her new fiancé, she had been only 17 years old but she'd promised Olivia it was only for a month, while they'd planned the wedding and she'd be back before her birthday in September. She remembered how she'd whined and moaned about her sister having the adventures while she stayed home, her small chubby little legs kicking against the bed she sat on in frustration as she helped Annie with her necklace.

"Libby, one day you'll get to have your own adventures. I'll take you to England with Edison and we'll get lost in Harrods. We'll have tea and scones and we'll wander through Hyde Park. But until then," She leaned forwards, away from Olivia's thin nimble fingers and brought the large wooden box to her side, setting it right in the lap of her little sister.

"You are the keeper of the keys Lib. You are Anicetus and this is my Olympus." She said somewhat dramatically before she saw the little girls' reflection look confused in the mirror and complied, "Alexiares and Anicetus were the guardian of Mount Olympus, home of the Olympian Gods. I am Alexiares, his names name means 'he who wards off war', because I am always defusing the fights between you and Daddy. And you are Anicetus."

The small girl's face scrunched at the name as if she disliked it in some way, she watched Annie swat at her nose with her fingers, causing the little girl to laugh and smile.

"It means, 'unconquerable one', because you, Libby, are unstoppable."

And they giggled before Annie stood and set the small key to the jewels on top the box's lid.

"But while I'm away you have to guard this with everything you have until I'm back, do you accept your duty, knight of my guard and unconquerable one?"

And with this, Olivia stood straight and saluted like a solider, causing Annie's laughter to ring through the room before they she enveloped her hand in her sisters as they strolled out the door.

The memory came like a dream to her and she had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, lost in her fantasy. she wasn't sure if Annie had seen it in her or had lit some flame but she'd always felt 'unconquerable' to the world. It pained her now to be under the thumb of her father but he had no call of anything she when he wasn't watching. She took her freedom when she could and while it lasted. She knew that the world was catching up with her but she wasn't ready to let go and settle, not yet.

The sound of the door opening jolted her from her thoughts as she saw Fitz locking the brass knob before turning to face her.

"What are you doing?" She asked frankly, she was secretly pleased to see him but if anyone saw him, she'd be slaughtered.

"I could ask you the same thing." He prodded, leaning back agains the door and folding his arms in frustration as he stared at her, presumably looking for some form of explanation.

"Fitz, this is a terrible idea-"

"Oh, so it's fine when you want to sneak into my room but it's not okay when I want to sneak into yours?" He shot and she gauged now that he was angry, she sighed. He had a right to be, she'd behaved as if he were a toy to be picked up and put down again when she'd wanted.

"If anyone saw you-"

"Nobody saw me. I was careful." He interrupted her and she turned away from him, back to her mirror where she began taking off her earrings. She knew to get through this she'd need armour of some kind so it therefore seemed better to put herself on the defensive and be angry at him.

"That's right, I forgot that you've done this before."

"Don't play games with me Olivia." He said, stepping forward and leaning down to kiss her neck as her eyelids fluttered closed and she let out a soft groan as he whispered, "Why are you trying to pick a fight with me Livvie?"

His voice brought her out of her trance and she shook her head.

"You shouldn't be here."

"But I am," He pulled back and sat down on her bed, "So you are going to tell me why my sister is relaying messages from you and why you're trying so desperately to get out of this."

"I have a complicated past."

"You and everyone else. I don't care, I want you." He said it as if it was the most simple thing in the world, as if there weren't all the issues and people between them.

"Fitz, I'm a Catholic." She turned to face him only to find him shrugging at her statement.

"Your point is?"

"What do you want from me?" She threw her hands up, at the end of her arguing because she didn't understand his sustainment of everything.

"I want this," He gestured between them, "Us."

"You don't even know me, Fitz." She countered but she had to admit the thought of his words sent thrills through her.

"I know the sounds you make when you shatter in my arms, I know you smell like lavender, I know you give me hope that there is more than just the world around me and that your father has more sway over your life than you'd like." At this her eyes widened.

"How could you know that?"

"Because the room shifts with your mood Livvie, because we're tied and I watch you cringe when he talks to you and how you shut down when you're near him. The only thing that's changed between now and last night, this morning, is that Elijah Pope has arrived and I can only assume that means he has something on you."

"Just leave it Fitz." She said, her eyes cast towards towards the floor as she rose and opened the door to him. "It's late, you should be in bed."

He stood, shocked and bewildered.

"I'm not giving up Olivia. I don't care about the mistakes that you've made, only that you're here now and we met and let our feelings run wild. Why does it have to stop?"

"Because I'm not the person you want, Olivia Pope is just your fantasy, she doesn't exist."

"What can I do to prove myself?"

"Don't you understand?" Her voice was just shy of yelling and she waited a moment before speaking again, shutting her eyes as her face strained with loss and frustration.

"It's not about you Fitz, you are the most beautiful and honourable man I've ever met. I'm not right for you, you don't get it."

He gently reached for her hand, folding it within his own as they stood for a moment, a tear falling down her face.

"Then help me, tell me how I can help you."

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes betraying the feelings she felt of him, but the walls she put up eclipsed everything and she pulled away, brushing the tear from her cheek before crossing her arms.

"You can't."

Fitz sighed, it seemed hopeless but it was a fight far from over for him and he swore to himself that he would give every breath in his body before he gave up on them.

"I'll let you rest, but don't think that my leaving this room in any way ends what we have. I'll fight for you Olivia, over a cliff and back." He saw how fleetingly her eyes moved from him and then somewhere around the room, too terrified to remain connected. He turned and walked through the open door out into the hallway. The wooden panelling was shut behind him almost immediately and he stood staring at the huge portraits that hung from the walls, his ancestors staring at him with the the same blue eyes that he and his siblings had inherited. He wasn't sure what they'd say about his relationship with Olivia or his actions but even in the dark his eyes still grazed over the family motto in latin that had been carved into the frames below the coat of arms.

The phrase was so imprinted in his mind, even as a child he'd known what the words had meant and he couldn't remember a time when they didn't translate. He began muttering it to himself over and over again as he made a swift path back to his room and still he heard the words ringing in his head as he pulled the sheets over him and began another restless night.

 _Dum spiro spero._

As long as I breathe, I hope.

 **XxXxXxXxX**

By the morning many were readied and packed to leave. He'd be lying if the thought of her and her family leaving didn't sink his dreams but he wouldn't give up. He had decided that he would be steady, wait and befriend her father, meanwhile winning her over touch by touch and word by word, just as she'd seduced him, albeit unknowingly as to her effect. He would take his time and wait as long as she needed and when she was ready to admit her feelings he would be there. He would not be outshone or undone, he would follow her to London if that's what it took, as long as she was single he didn't need a reason to court or pursue her and he would do so, knowing that eventually she would admit her own feelings once whatever storm that raged inside her died down.

The remaining party who would be catching the afternoon train sat and attended breakfast as usual, Olivia and her father seated next to each other and Fitz across from her like the day before. His father sat next to him at the head of the table, eyes once again glued to the newspaper. He began sawing his potatoes in half, all the while stealing glances at the woman before him and noting how she kept her eyes fixed on her plate.

"Ha!" His father jumped slightly and lowered the paper so as to look at the crowd at table who now sat staring him in astonishment, "Ms. Pope, why didn't you tell us!?" He addressed Olivia excitedly and her cheeks flushed slightly as her eyes widened in panic.

"I'm sorry Sir, I don't understand-"

"My dear Duke I should explain." Her father cut in, dabbing his mouth with his napkin as he cast look that could only be described as prideful control over his daughter, "I put the announcement in the paper as a surprise for my daughter, she was none the wiser."

The Duke smiled and nodded towards Eli, "A thoughtful gesture Ambassador," and then seeing the rest of the room still confused he began reciting the printed words, "Ambassador and Mrs. Pope of New York are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Miss Olivia Pope to Mr. Jake Ballard, first son to Mr. and and the late Mrs. Ballard of North Carolina. Miss Pope is a well known socialite hailing from New York, whilst Mr. Ballard graduated the Harvard school of Communication in December.' Congratulations Miss Pope." His voice boomed as he raised his teacup to her.

Olivia swallowed and nodded, eyes still cast downwards as Fitz sat with his mouth hanging open in shock. How could she? All the while she lay in his arms, she wasn't his at all. He felt betrayed and used, only a warm body to comfort her in the night. How foolish he had been. He was resolved to get the truth but even now the words brewing in his mouth at the thought of their confrontation tasted bitter and without mercy. For the first time in his life he'd cursed the family words, calling them wrong and childish. Hope was what made men into fools. Hope was lost.

 **XxXxXxXxXxX**

 ** _A/N_** _: A little bit angsty I know, but Olitz is endgame, I promise! What did y'all think of Scandal the other night? I've listed my thoughts/predictions for the other week's ep under my new story 'Missing Scenes and Things Unsaid' which is an ongoing compilation of Drabbles and One-Shots, specifically (maybe just for now?) focusing on Season 5. If you could go check that one out and give it some love I would be super grateful and give you virtual ice cream! Also if you guys would like to send me prompts via PM, that would be_ ** _awesome_** _as I'm totally looking for inspiration right now. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this update up, Scandal hasn't been super inspiring the last few weeks but I'm still hanging here loving Olitz as much as ever, I just wish Shonda did too *sighs*. Anyway, please drop me a review and let me know what you thought! It's also my birthday tomorrow so it would be a super awesome and amazing gift to see your opinions and feelings! Hope you're all having a wonderful weekend._

 _Much love,_

 _Sam x._


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